A Sign Of Things To Come
by Romy Katherine
Summary: In response to a prompt on the Glee Fluff Meme, here are the birth stories of certain Glee members.  Characters up so far: Finn, Quinn, Beth, Kurt & Santana, toddler!Brittany, Rachel, Puck and Baby Schuester.
1. Finn & Quinn

This was written for this prompt on the Glee Fluff Meme over on Livejournal: I wanna see a Past!fic that depicts the Glee club member's births.

I haven't written every member's birth, and if when I'm done people want to suggest stories for others, I may give some more a go.

* * *

Carole pads into the living room in her slippers and hands Burt his cocoa. Exhausted by a full day's worth of football and Cheerios practice respectively both Finn and Kurt have fallen asleep on the couch despite the blaring noise of the TV. Kurt's curled in the foetal position with his feet in Finn's lap while the taller boy snores softly, mumbling now and then. Despite the difficulties they'd had at the start, the boys were now so comfortable with each other it was hard to believe they hadn't grown up together. Carole turns the volume of the tv down and pulled the throw off the back of the couch, covering the two boys. She leans down and gently kisses each of their foreheads before taking her original place curled up against Burt's side. He chuckles, watching as Kurt shifts to a comfier spot, kicking Finn in the process. He expects the taller boy to wake up, but he doesn't stir.

"They think they're all grown up but as soon as they're asleep they're just like tiny babies again " Carole sighs, sipping her cocoa. "I guess nothing's changed. He's still always late and he'd still happily sleep most of the day."

* * *

"That's it Carole, you're doing brilliantly," the midwife cooes.

"Just get it out! Oh my GOD! Don't you ever come near me again Christopher Hudson," Carole screams, shooting daggers at her terrified husband.

"Just one more push, that's it. There we go, it's a boy!" Loud cries fill the delivery room and Chris frees his fingers from Carole's vice-like grip.

"A boy? Oh my god. A boy. Hear that sweetie? It's a boy! I'm a Dad!" Chris beams, trying to catch a glance of his son as he's cleaned up and weighed.

"Finally," Carole sighs. "After two weeks I was starting to think he was staying in there forever. I'm serious, there is no way in _hell_ I'm doing that again." However, any thoughts of castrating her long-suffering husband (with a pair of rusty scissors and no anaesthetic) soon disappear as her son is placed on her chest. His baby blue eyes catch hers and he stops crying immediately, falling asleep not two minutes later. Chris perches on the side of the bed, stroking her hair and staring in amazement at the not quite so tiny (he'd found out later that Finn had weighed close to eleven pounds) baby in front of him, and doesn't think he could get any happier.

* * *

Two days later, Carole's attempting to finish her book when the baby in the next crib starts shrieking. Sighing, she puts the book down and walks over, wondering where her mother's gotten to. She leans over and shushes the tiny, blonde baby, who just cries louder, screwing her eyes shut and balling her hands into tiny fists. Her mother returns soon after, and Carole straightens, smiling.

"I hope you don't mind, I heard her crying and couldn't resist. She's an absolute doll. Bound to be a heart breaker one day."

"Oh not if Richard has anything to say about it. I think he wants her locked in her room until she's 18." She laughs wearily, sitting on the bed.

"May I?" Carole asks, gesturing to the baby.

"Oh go ahead. Maybe you'll have more luck getting her to stop crying than me," the woman sighs. Carole reaches in and lifts up the little girl, laying her against her chest and swaying side to side. "I thought, you know, a little girl would be nice and quiet, but it seems like she hasn't stopped crying since the minute she was born." Carole smiles in sympathy, rubbing circles on the baby's back.

"I guess I'm lucky like that, he's done nothing but sleep. I swear he was born a teenager. So have you decided on a name yet?"

"Well Richard wanted to name her after his mother, but I think that's just _so_ unoriginal. I quite like Quinn. It's the only name he and I seem to agree on. How about you?" she asks.

"We went with Finn in the end. Chris didn't really mind, once I shot down his suggestion of Christopher Jr." Carole glances back to her son, who's lying in his crib, dead to the world despite the hubbub of noise on the ward. "So I guess these two'll be in school together in a few years. Sorry, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Carole. Carole Hudson." She debates extending a hand, but hasn't quite mastered holding a baby one handed yet.

"Judy Fabray. Nice to meet you."

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	2. Beth & Kurt

Thanks to those of you who left reviews, they mean a lot to me. For the purpose of this chapter Quinn has decided to keep Beth and is still with Finn.

* * *

Burt walks into the NICU and sits down next to Quinn, handing her a coffee. She takes it, her hands shaking.

"She's so tiny," Quinn whispers, staring at the incubator. "How do I do this? How do I deal with this?" She turns to look at Burt, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I'm 16, I don't know what to do. She's so tiny, and I can't do anything. God, I feel so..."

"Useless? Exhausted, scared – no, petrified. You don't want to take your eyes off her for a second. Every instict is screaming at you to just grab her and never let go. You miss her even though she's right in front of you." He smiles softly and she nods, looking back to her baby.

"How... how do you know –"

"Kurt was a preemie too. 26 weeks and 5 days. I've never been so scared in my life." He follows Quinn's gaze back to the little girl with flushed, pink skin and a shock of dark hair (he thinks she'll look more like Quinn later, but for now she's the spit of Finn) and he's instantly taken back 16 years, to this very NICU. She's not as small as Kurt was, but there's the same machines, same nurses, same terrified look in Quinn's eyes that he remembers all too well.

* * *

"I'm sorry sir, you have to wait here," a nameless surgeon with scrubs and glasses gestures to the generic plastic chairs outside the OR.

"No, I've got to stay with her. Please, she's my wife, I don't want to leave her." Burt tries to follow, but is manhandled to the chairs by a nameless nurse, maybe in her 40s, with a sympathetic and knowing look on her face.

"They'll let you know what's going on when they know more. Just try not to worry Mr Hummel."

He would've laughed if the situation were different. How could she tell him not to worry when his wife and unborn child were in the OR and he was powerless to help either of them? He drops his head into his hands and prays to any god that'll listen to please, just please help them. He's not sure how long it is, how many more nameless nurses and doctors walk past ignoring him before an incubator is rushed past him and down the corridor. He stands up, tries to follow, before noticing the same surgeon from before.

"Mr Hummel –"

"How is she? Are they ok? What happened?" He stares at the surgeon, trying to find the answers on his face. The man's clearly had plenty of practice at this, because he's giving nothing away. "Your wife lost a lot of blood, so we had to deliver. Your son –"

"A boy? I've got a son?" Burt momentarily forgets the conversation and smiles.

"Yes, being preterm he's very small, so we're taking him up to the NICU where they can work on getting him better."

* * *

"They led me over to this incubator, surrounded by doctors and nurses and machines. He was on a ventilator because his lungs were so small, and he had an IV in each hand. They had to give him morphine because the needle sticks hurt him so much." Quinn winces and reaches into the incubator to stroke Beth's fingers, which curl loosely around hers. "And because of all of the blood they were taking for tests, they had to keep giving him transfusions. I didn't leave the hospital for two weeks, I was either with him or donating blood. People kept trying to get me to leave, but as far as I was concerned, my family was right in front of me and I was going nowhere."

"What about Kurt's mom?" Quinn asks, idly stroking Beth's hair.

"She had to be kept in, but told me to stay with him. She didn't want him on his own. Thought he'd be scared if one of us wasn't there. If ever I had to leave, I'd put my wedding ring around his wrist." Quinn raises her eyebrows, surprised. "Yeah, that was how small he was." Burt smiles, twisting the ring that hasn't left his finger for 16 years, since it got too big for Kurt to wear.

"Each day we'd count the number of tubes and wires that disappeared. That was how we measured his progress. I remember when they took him off the ventilator and he wailed, like he was making up for all of the crying he'd missed out on. He was the loudest kid in the NICU by far. A sign of things to come, I guess." He chuckles. "I held him that day. He fit in the palm of my hand, weighed nothing, but wouldn't quit wriggling. I was convinced I was gonna drop him, or break him or something. It was like holding a baby bird."

Quinn thinks of the Kurt she knows and (although he's not exactly tall) she struggles to imagine him ever being so vulnerable, especially considering all the times he's put the jocks, the teachers – and hell – even Rachel Berry in their place without so much as batting an eyelid.

"I took him to the window, showed him the world for the first time. Told him about all the cool things he was gonna grow up and do, you know, I could actually start to think about that now he was getting bigger, stronger. I told him about sports, and how he was already so much like his mom, and how he was gonna be someone special. I must've talked for hours, 'cause it got dark and they took him off me again. I didn't want them to, and suddenly my arms felt so empty. And the nurses, they all but kicked me out the door, and told me he wouldn't even notice I was gone. That was the first night I left. I didn't sleep a wink, but there he was the next morning, wide awake and wondering what all the fuss was about." Burt smiles, and suddenly Quinn doesn't look so worried anymore.

"I know right now you feel so out of your depth, but trust me, you'll both be fine," Burt says knowingly, patting her knee.

And Quinn thinks that maybe he's right. Maybe they will be.


	3. Santana & Brittany

Thanks to everyone who's so far reviewed, favourited and added this to story alerts; it gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. For this fic, I've decided that Brittany is actually a couple of years older than everyone else, but at some point between this and sophomore year she got held back a couple of years. Because with Brittany, that's entirely possible.

* * *

Marie Aaldenberg likes to think of herself as sociable, well to do, the kind of neighbour people call on when they need a helping hand. So when she spots Ana Lopez in the street, she decides to introduce herself using her two and a half year old as an icebreaker. After all, friends willing to act as baby sitters aren't always easy to come by, especially as Brittany isn't the easiest toddler in the world.

"Aww she's a beauty. How old is she?" Marie casually asks Ana when they bump into each other at the store.

"She'll be three weeks tomorrow. What about you honey, how old are you?" Ana crouches down to Brittany's level. Brit holds up 3 fingers, grinning.

"No Brittany, you're not three yet sweetie," Maria chuckles, folding down one of her fingers. "So how's she sleeping? Brit was still getting me up six times a night at that age." As if on cue, Brittany giggles cheekily.

"Well Santana's been brilliant. I expected to get no sleep at all, but I can put her down at 9pm and not hear a peep from her until 2am. It's a good job too; Carlos refuses to get up for her in the night. I told him it's the least he could do after I had to endure a 21 hour labour."

"Oh you poor thing. Luckily, Brit was rather – Brittany, leave that lady's dog alone! – Sorry, yes, Brittany came pretty quickly. She did come out backwards though. I sometimes think that was a sign of things to come," Marie sighs, watching Brittany having a conversation with a disinterested toy giraffe lying sideways on the shelf. "Brit sweetie, come say hi to the baby." Brittany bounds over (after all, she has just discovered that she has knees) and reaches up on tiptoe to see into the pushchair.

"Baby!" She declares loudly, looking to her mother for approval.

"That's right Brit, that's Santana," Marie says, lifting up the toddler to see into the pram.

"Santa!"

"No, Santana."

Brittany looks confused, miming the word several times before pointing at Santana and shouting "Baby!" Marie looks embarrassed, but Ana just laughs, ruffling Brittany's hair.

* * *

Marie Aaldenberg does gain a willing baby sitter that day, as well as a good friend to bake and have coffee mornings with. It seems that Brittany is even happier with this arrangement, having found a suitable replacement for the cindy doll she buried in the back yard. Not a day goes by when she doesn't ask her mother when "Santa" is coming over, squeeling delightedly whenever Ana lays the baby on her lap for her to cuddle. When Santana starts getting older, it's Brittany who's holding her hands when she takes her first steps, and Brit who happily babbles with her as she's learning to talk. When Brittany has to go to kindergarten, it's Santana who hugs her and gives her her lucky Beanie Baby to stop her crying, and on Santana's first day it's Brit who gives her half a Peppermint Pattie and holds her hand for the whole of recess.

Marie's just glad that Brittany's stopped pestering her for a baby sister.


	4. Rachel

Thank you for all of the favourites/alerts/reviews - it really means a lot to know that people are enjoying this. I apologise for not having updated in a bit, I haven't been on my laptop where all the files are for a while. I'd love some suggestions as to who you'd like next, as I only have one more after this written. Any plot ideas you give will be credited and rewarded with e-cookies!

* * *

Everything is precisely on schedule. She's in a smart, private delivery room surrounded by the best doctors and most advanced medical equipment. In just a few hours she will have given birth to her baby girl, will no longer have to endure the inconvenience of back ache, swollen ankles and heartburn. She's read all the books, been to the lamaze classes, had the scans and watched her baby grow inside her.

The birth is over quicker than she'd imagined. One minute she's being soothed by a nurse whose name she can't remember while the contractions wash through her as if she's being ripped apart from the inside out. The next, her little girl's screams echo through the delivery room (Shelby can't help but wonder if those screams foreshadow a singing career, after all, it'd be nice if she passed on at least one good genetic trait). She watches, exhausted, as the tiny baby is cleaned up, then placed on the scales, taking in the details like her chestnut hair and flushed pink skin. According to the books, this is when she'll be handed to her mother; it's the most important part in the bonding process, where a mom can count her child's fingers and toes, breathe in the smell that is unique to newborns, and check whose features she's inherited.

But Shelby's arms stay empty. Instead, she watches as Rachel (they'd agreed her name long ago, as soon as they'd found out Shelby was carrying a girl) is handed to James and Daniel, the two men she's come to know well over the past year. They look perfect with her, understanding how to hold her and how to stop her cries. Shelby's always known that this is how it would be. After all, she's nothing but a glorified incubator. They are Rachel's parents; they're the ones who are going to change her diapers and stay up when she gets chicken pox and eagerly attend every one of her ballet recitals. All this she understands, but she hadn't expected it to feel so wrong. Every instinct is screaming at her to rip her child away from them, hold her close and never let go. She remembers every part of the last nine months. She's seen how Rachel's grown between each ultrasound and felt each and every kick. And now she'll leave the hospital without her little girl and go on with her life until the last year is nothing but a distant memory, with no reminders like baby bottles and dressing up clothes and report cards.

But she's made James and Daniel happy; they have a family now. Never mind the hollow feeling inside her, that's all that matters.

"Yes Shelby", she tells herself, "that's all that matters."

* * *

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	5. Puck

Thank you to all those who're sticking with this, who've favourited it, reviewed and added it to alerts. It really makes my day to read all of them even if I don't always reply. There's only one chapter after this one so we're nearly at the end.

* * *

"Oh not now, please not now," Maggie Puckerman groaned as she felt her waters break. Her first child was now 12 days late, and while she was relieved that he was finally on his way, her husband was nowhere to be seen. After changing, she grabbed her purse and carefully made her way out of the door.

She knew exactly where to find him.

Ignoring the dull ache that radiated through her abdomen and spine, Maggie took a deep breath and pushed open the door to Millie's Bar. Glancing around the room, she spotted Neil at the bar, flirting with the barmaid who was fluttering her eyelashes and twirling her blonde hair around her finger. She strode up to her husband and cleared her throat.

"When you're quite done here, Neil, I need you to take me to the hospital."

"What? Why? I'm busy here, Maggie." Neil slurred, lifting his glass and motioning to Blonde Barmaid for another drink.

"Well I'm so sorry to ruin your evening, but my waters just broke. I hoped you could spare a minute for your son, but obviously I was wrong." Maggie turned and started to leave, but pain shot through her and she doubled over, clutching her front. Immediately, several people in the bar were at her side, guiding her to a chair and asking what was wrong. She could hear Blonde Barmaid calling for an ambulance, and Neil trying to apologise. She turned and glared at him, pushing him away from her.

"I don't want you anywhere near me," she said bitterly. "Our child should get used to you not being around." Another contraction followed, the pain radiating through her in waves. She thinks she hears someone telling her that the ambulance is coming, that she should stay calm and try not to worry, but she can already feel the baby coming. "I've gotta push, he's coming," Maggie screams. She's scared, it wasn't supposed to happen like this. Sure, she knew her husband was a waste of space, but she'd really believed that becoming a father would straighten him out, that a bit of responsibility would be good for him, but he's resumed his place at the bar and she doesn't have the energy to berate him further.

"Listen honey," a woman soothes from beside her, "you can't push yet. Just try to hang on for the ambulance."

"I can't, please, I have to, he's coming." Maggie doesn't even notice the hoard of people surrounding her or feel the embarrassment of giving birth in the middle of a bar. Someone's rubbing her back, giving her encouragement as the paramedics burst through the door to the bar. They're too late though, as seconds later cries fill the room and a baby's placed in her arms. She looks down at him, her brown eyes meeting his. He's wrapped haphazardly in a towel and no one's cleaned him off but she doesn't care.

"Noah," she breathes, kissing his forehead. She silently prays, asking for her boy to be kept safe, and that he'll be a better man than his father ever was.

* * *

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	6. Baby Schuester

**The last chapter! In this AU, Carl doesn't exist and Emma & Schue got married and have probably been together for at least a year when this chapter happens. **

* * *

They're nearly done for the day, just running the number for the last time, when Will gets the call.

"She's what?" he pauses, running a shaky hand through his hair. "Well is she ok?" He nods, sighing with relief. "Yeah yeah, of course. I'll be right there." He looks up, and the entire club is staring at him, waiting to hear the news.

"It's Emma. She's gone into labour." He smiles, as if the fact has only just registered, and the kids start chattering, eager to hear more about the woman who's become as much a part of the club as her husband. They're so deep in conversation that they don't notice Will running out of the room without so much as a "see you later." It's not long before they all follow suit, running to the parking lot, clambering into cars and driving to the hospital.

Will is approached by a doctor as soon as he gets to the maternity ward. "Mr Schuester?" Will nods, feeling more nervous now than on the journey here. (During which he broke at least two driving laws and angered countless other motorists.)

"Where's Emma? Has the baby come yet? Did I miss it?" Will rambles, convinced he hasn't driven fast enough and has missed the birth of his first child.

"No, we've got her settled and on pain relief, but we're in for the long haul, Mr Schuester. It'll be a few hours yet."

Will pushes open the door to the delivery room, and rushes to kiss his wife who's anxiously sitting in the bed.

"Emma, hey sweetie. I came as fast as I could." He hasn't noticed until now that she has tears in her eyes, and is twisting the bed sheets with white knuckles. "Baby, what's the matter? Is it the pain, 'cause I can go get the doctor?"

"It's all wrong. It's not supposed to be today, it's not supposed to be here. April 7th, that's what they said. It was planned, I wanted to be at home. I didn't want to be here, Will."

Knowing Emma's reluctance to be in a hospital, full of sickness and the potential for germs, the couple had planned a home birth, from the midwife, right down to the fresh, new towels that Emma had chosen specially.

"I know Em, but there's nothing we can do now. We're here, and it's all gonna be ok, I promise." He's not sure if that helps much, but her grip loosens slightly and she wipes the tears from her cheeks. Suddenly, she grabs his hand and moans as another contraction hits her, and Will does his best to soothe her, stroking her back and whispering quiet encouragement.

* * *

"I can't believe we made her." Will stares, mesmerised at his daughter, who's bundled in pink blankets and lying in Emma's arms.

"I know, she's perfect. Ten little fingers and ten little toes." Emma strokes the baby's red hair and cooes gently, beathing in her smell of soap and talcum powder. "She still needs a name, though. We can't call her Baby Schuester forever."

"I dunno, it's got a certain ring to it." He chuckles. "I don't mind. As long as we don't name her after my mother..." They stare at her for a while, seeing what comes to mind, what suits her, then Emma speaks quietly.

"Eloise. It's pretty, I think it fits." As if showing her agreement, the baby gurgles and reaches a hand towards her mother.

"Eloise. Eloise Schuester," Will says, as if testing out the name. "Yeah, I like that. What made you think of it?"

"My favourite grandmother was called Eloise. She used to smell like lavender soap and would let me dust her picture frames, and then we'd make shortbread and watch Charlie Brown." Will smiles, and turns around as the doctor leans around the door.

"Sorry to interrupt, but there are twelve kids out here all begging to come and see you. They've been here since 4:30." Will laughs, and nods.

"Sure, they can come for a little while, if that's ok with you Em?" Emma nods, and soon the entire glee club is standing at the bottom of the bed, craning to get a look at Eloise.

"Aww Mr Schue, she's so pretty. What's she called? What did she weigh?" Everyone (except most of the guys, who are feigning disinterest) fires questions at the couple, momentarily quietening when their noise startles the baby. She doesn't cry though, just looks around the room with wide eyes. Will takes the bundle of blankets and moves to sit on the end of the bed.

"Everyone, this is Eloise." A chorus of 'awww's erupt from the group, even from the boys.

"I got her a ballad, Mr Schue!" Brittany pipes up, thrusting a toy duck at him.

"Um, thanks Brittany."

"Can I hold her? Please, I promise I'll be real careful." Will looks reluctantly at Emma, who nods and motions for Brittany to come and sit Will's chair. He places Eloise gently into Brit's arms, and smiles as she snuggles further into the blankets, eventually drifting into sleep. Brittany doesn't seem to have noticed, though, as she continues the babbled conversation with her new best friend.

* * *

After Emma's fallen asleep and the kids have left (well, been kicked out, after Puck, Finn and Artie started a wheelchair race down the corridor) Will watches his wife and daughter sleep, thinks of the twelve children he's come to call 'family', and knows he really is the luckiest man alive.

**Well thank you for sticking with this one. It's been fun to write, and I hope you've all enjoyed it. It would mean the world to me if you left a review to let me know what you liked (or didn't like!), and I would love to hear which your favourite chapter was. Happy New Year! Xx**


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